


Head vs. Heart

by stjarna



Series: Season 4 - Coda Challenge [15]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Additional Scene, AoS theory, Coda Challenge, Coda Challenge @The FitzSimmons Network, F/M, Guilt, Post s04e09 Broken Promises, Spoilers, Tumblr: thefitzsimmonsnetwork, aos speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 08:08:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9312929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: What happens when Jemma returns to the Playground post-4x09.Written for The "Season 4, Episode 9 - Broken Promises" Coda Challenge organized by The Fitzsimmons Network on Tumblr.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AGL03](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGL03/gifts).



> This fic probably goes a little bit beyond coda and heavily delves into my speculations for what could happen next (but then the writers never seem to listen to me ;) )
> 
> For AGL03, because I always love her coda and just when I finished writing this fic and sending it off to my wonderful beta dilkirani, AGL03 posted some meta that--in my eyes--has soooooo many parallels with this fic that I just thought GMTA :) [Plus, I told her I would tag her on Tumblr so she wouldn't miss this fic, and then I thought a gift would be even nicer ;) ]

Jemma’s head feels empty, drained from a long and frustratingly unsuccessful day. And—of course—it’s throbbing from having a guy twice her size smack his forehead against hers. She can feel her body protesting with every step, every breath. Sore. Tired.

It had been a long day.

Absentmindedly she wishes Mace goodnight and silently walks alongside Daisy towards their quarters. The corridors are eerily quiet and deserted. Most people off-duty had presumably taken the opportunity to call it a night early on after yet another day of an enemy almost taking over their base.

“So is that what you meant when you talked about boys and their robots?”

Jemma looks at her friend before turning her head to follow Daisy’s gaze.

Through the doors to the common room, she sees Fitz sitting at the table. His back is pressed against the backrest of his chair. His hands are folded, resting on the table. His thumbs nervously tap against each other in rapid motion. He stares at AIDA’s severed head. A bottle of beer and some tools sit next to what’s left of the android.

Jemma sighs.

“You going in there?” Daisy asks.

Jemma turns back to her and nods. “Good night, Daisy,” she says quietly, smiling weakly.

“G’night,” Daisy replies. “And good luck with that.”

A sad chuckle escapes Jemma’s lips. She takes another deep breath, turns her back on Daisy and enters the room.

Fitz is so deep in thought that he doesn’t notice her, not even when she stands right next to him.

“I’m sorry, Fitz,” Jemma says quietly. And she means it. Despite her annoyance over him hiding AIDA from her, despite her slight jealousy over him spending time with Radcliffe and AIDA rather than her, she _was_ sorry that AIDA’s story had ended the way it did.

He looks up in surprise, but a smile flashes across his face when he sees her and he jumps out of his seat. “Jemma,” he exclaims, relieved, cupping her face to plant a kiss on her lips that has a sense of urgency and desperation.

His eyes wander to her forehead and Jemma notices his breathing quicken. Carefully, he reaches for the bruise on her head with his thumb. Even though his finger barely uses any pressure, Jemma flinches at his touch and briefly closes her eyes. She grabs his wrist.

“It’s okay, Fitz,” she reassures him. “Looks worse than it is.”

One corner of his mouth twitches in protest. Jemma tries to smile to make him believe her. She notices the cut above his eye and instinctively her fingers reach for it, but Fitz holds her back.

“Looks worse than it is,” he teases her. “I feel like I’ve had a split brow so many times now, I should just have it tattooed and make it permanent,” he jokes, but his smile looks as forced as hers.

Jemma scoffs, rolling her eyes. She lets out a deep sigh. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she says, barely above a whisper.

“For the most part,” Fitz replies, blinking his eyes. Jemma notices that he’s clenching his jaw. “How about you?” he asks, placing his hands on her shoulders, massaging them gently. “You okay?”

Jemma closes her eyes, feeling them become misty. She looks at him, shaking her head. “I failed on all fronts today,” she says, sad and frustrated with herself.

“What do you mean?” Fitz asks, tilting his head as he gazes down at her, his eyes full of concern.

“We had the opportunity to save Vijay and we failed. I let him down when I first met him, and now I failed him again. Whatever happened or happens to him after he went with his sister today, it’s on me. Nadeer may have _killed_ him. Or she might use him for her political purposes. Stage something. Make it look like he used his inhuman powers to attack or kill someone. Use him as a scapegoat for her anti-inhuman agenda. Think about it, Fitz. Remember how Ward’s brother wanted to use Ward’s capture to advance his own political career?”

“Jemma, stop!” Fitz interjects, squeezing her shoulders. “You didn’t fail Vijay. You did everything you could. When you first met him, you were the one to get him out of his cocoon. He’d been stuck in there for _months_ , afraid to come out, and _you_ helped him. And they put a bloody bag over your head and dragged you away. What were you _supposed_ to do? How _could_ you have helped him?” He takes a deep breath. “And _now_? He was _given_ a choice and he chose _her_. And it was probably a mistake, but that was _his_ decision.”

“Maybe it shouldn’t have been his to make? Maybe we should have taken him,” Jemma ponders.

“Kidnapping him would _probably_ have given him the wrong message,” Fitz counters. “It would have been counterproductive… and illegal and all that.”

Jemma sighs. “I know. I just wish there had been something I could have done. _Anything!_ ”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Fitz tells her once again. “It _wasn’t_! You did _everything_ you could.”

The corners of her mouth quirk up briefly. “Maybe you’re right. But the same _doesn’t_ hold true when it comes to AIDA, unfortunately.”

“What do you mean?” Fitz asks, his eyebrows rising up.

“I’m the Special Advisor to the Director in Science and Technology, Fitz. I _knew_ about AIDA, and—of _course_ —I knew about the dangers of creating and using powerful autonomous machinery, and I _hid_ her from the Director, because I wanted to protect you and Radcliffe. I didn’t trust Mace, but I _should have_ reported it. I should have _ensured_ that this project was under _strict_ surveillance, _not_ conducted at Radcliffe’s private lab. I _knew_ the dangers but I kept her hidden. I bear much of the blame for what happened today.”

“ _What?_ ” Fitz exclaims angrily, taking a step back. “ _No!_ ” He points his finger at her. “There’s no _way_ you will take the blame for this, Jemma.” He throws his hands in the air. “You said it yourself: you hid AIDA from Mace to protect _me_. This whole thing is on _me_! _I_ hid her from you!”

“To protect me and my position,” Jemma interjects.

“Yes. _I_ hid it from _you_ to protect _you_. And _you_ hid it from _Mace_ to protect _me_ and now…” He pauses, slumping his shoulders. “Maybe we both made a mistake. Remember how we said that we shouldn’t let work disagreements affect our life outside of work? Maybe that has to go both ways. Maybe we also have to make sure that our personal lives don’t interfere with our work. You’re right. You _should_ have reported me! You should have but because of our _personal_ relationship, you _didn’t_ … I… I held you back.”

He lets out a deep breath. “But all of that doesn’t change the fact that _I’m_ to blame for all this. _Not_ you!” He points at himself. “ _I_ should have reported it the _second_ Radcliffe showed her to me. I should have, but I was so _blinded_ by the idea of what AIDA could become. She seemed like the perfect tool, the perfect shield. Send her and others like her into the field so _we_ can do our job under _their_ protection, so we can save others and have a chance at a safe life ourselves.”

He pauses, placing one hand on his hip, his gaze falling to the floor. His voice sounds shaky when he continues speaking. “I’m tired of being afraid of losing you every day. Every hour. Every _second_. And I’m tired of being afraid that you could lose me. You don’t deserve that. That kind of pain. _Not_ again. _Not_ after what happened to Will.”

He looks back at her and she sees tears in his eyes. “I was selfish, Jemma. I told myself that I wanted to save lives but the only lives I truly cared about were ours.” He takes one step closer to her. “She was a supposed to be _our_ shield. She was designed to protect _us_.”

“And she did,” Jemma whispers. “She saved us and _millions_ of people!”

Fitz scoffs. “Yes, she did.” He shakes his head. “But because Radcliffe and I designed her _too_ realistically, made her experience _pain_ so that she could pass for human, she snapped.” He pauses, biting his lip. “‘Why would you want to hurt me, Leopold?’ That’s what she asked. ‘Why would you want to hurt me?’” He’s breathing heavily. “And she’s right,” he continues, shrugging his shoulders. “ _Why?_ Why would I? That was unnecessary and cruel and—”

“She was an _android_ , Fitz,” Jemma intervenes. “Designing her realistically so that she could pass as human was the right choice. What’s the point of a decoy if people can easily tell they’re not real? It’s _not_ cruel, because she was _not_ a living being. She did not _actually_ experience pain. It was mimicry of pain. Very _realistic_ mimicry, but mimicry nonetheless.”

Fitz’s eyes stare at her briefly, before gazing back at the floor. “She said ‘I only wanted to help you.’” Fitz says quietly, mumbling to himself. “She did what she thought was right.”

“Stop trying to defend her,” Jemma exclaims. “AIDA’s programming went rogue and Mack stopped her.”

Fitz’s head shoots up. “I’m not trying to defend _her_ ,” he replies, gesturing at himself with both hands. “I’m trying to defend _myself_. I’m trying to come up with a theory that’ll make it possible for me to look into the mirror and not see a _failure_. Mack was right. I’m a big dumb _idiot_ for building that thing in the first place.”

“He did not say that,” Jemma says, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Yes, he did,” Fitz counters. “And he was _right_! _I_ built her, Jemma. _I_ built her and she almost _destroyed_ us. All my life I’ve been trying _so hard_ to build things that _save_ people: scanners, protective gear, non-lethal weapons. AIDA was supposed to be one of those tools and instead she turned on us and that was _my fault_! She _killed_ Nathanson. She _attacked_ agents. _That’s on me_! **_I_** built her. **_I_** told her to read the Darkhold and somehow she could hear me through the other dimension and she read it and—”

“—she _saved_ you and Coulson and _that’s_ what matters to me, Fitz! ‘Cause I don't know what I would do—”

“Our lives alone shouldn’t have been enough reason,” Fitz exclaims, turning his back on Jemma and beginning to pace. “It was too dangerous. There were too many risks. I was selfish. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to leave you behind. But there were too many risks. It wasn’t worth—”

“Yes!” Jemma screams at him, making him stop dead in his tracks. “Yes, it was!” She sobs. “It was _right_ to let AIDA read the book to save you! And don’t you _dare_ talk about your life not being worth saving _ever_ again!”

She pauses, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “It was right to let her read the book, and I’m not just saying that because I need you alive, Fitz. It was right because there _weren’t_ too many risks. Your assessment of the situation was correct. The book was too much for a _human_ mind to handle, but she didn’t _have_ a human mind. She was _programmed_. It should have been _impossible_ for a _machine_ to get corrupted. _Nobody_ could have predicted what the Darkhold would do to her! _Nobody!_ ”

She walks up to Fitz, tilting her head until she’s sure he’s no longer avoiding her eyes. “This wasn’t your fault, Fitz!” A weak smile flashes across her face. “We _both_ have to stop blaming ourselves. You’re right: I _couldn’t_ save Vijay. He made his choice and I did everything I could. And so did you. You did _everything_ you could to ensure AIDA could not become a weapon. Nobody could have known that the Darkhold would be able to reprogram her. And once she read it, we tried to ensure that this information would be destroyed. You stopped her from leaving the base. You gave Mack the time and opportunity to stop her getting away with the Darkhold.”

Fitz stands in front of her silently, his eyes glancing at AIDA’s head still lying on the table.

“Fitz?” Jemma pleads, thinking he’s still not willing to let his guilt go.

She’s surprised when she notices a change in his eyes. He looks around the room, nervously, and reaches for her arm. “What if it didn’t?” he says, barely above a whisper.

“What if what didn’t what?” Jemma asks in confusion.

“I’ve been thinking about it all day, Jemma,” Fitz replies. “The Darkhold seems to be able to read people’s minds, but from what we’ve seen and found out, it didn’t _change_ people’s characters, didn’t _reprogram_ them. Not _really_ anyways. It just kinda _enhanced_ the worst in people.”

He pauses briefly, taking a deep breath, before continuing his explanation. “Everything we know about Lucy Bauer and Eli Morrow—stories we were told, their history, their research, their psychological profiles—showed that they were highly driven, competitive, incredibly smart, and to some extent… _backstabbers_ right from the get-go, _long_ before getting their hands on the book. They _all_ were already flawed when they read the book, like probably every single human being on this planet. But AIDA was a _machine_. She was _designed_. She was supposed to _protect_ people. She was programmed _not_ to be able to kill. She couldn’t _lie_. She was _pure,_ in a sense. There shouldn’t have been anything _negative_ for the Darkhold to latch onto. Like you said, it shouldn’t have been possible for the Darkhold to rewrite AIDA’s programming.”

Jemma sighs. “I don’t think we know enough about the Darkhold to know what it is capable of, Fitz.”

“I know,” Fitz acknowledges. “I know that… but something doesn’t feel right, Jemma. And I’ve thought about it all day and…” He pauses. “Then I realized something.”

“What?” Jemma asks curiously.

“Even _if_ the Darkhold rewrote AIDA’s programming, why would AIDA have gone after the book?” Fitz asks. “It doesn’t make sense. Think about it, Jemma: I was there when AIDA read the book. She read it front to back, cover to cover, _every_ single page. And she’s a machine, a computer; her eyes are sensors, scanners. When she reads something—”

“—it gets written to her hard drive,” Jemma remarks, realizing his argument. “Why would she need to go after the Darkhold—”

“—if the entire Darkhold is already available to her,” Fitz finishes her thought.

Jemma’s eyes wander from left to right, as this knowledge sinks in. “Maybe she wanted to ensure that nobody else would get it?” she hypothesizes.

“Maybe,” Fitz admits. “ _But_ … Radcliffe suggested that she was driven by the desire to live. If that’s all she wanted, then why not run away and stop us from erasing her hard drive? Why care about keeping the Darkhold from others? She read the _entire_ book. If she _just_ wanted to live, staying away from us would make _far_ more sense than trying to infiltrate our base, risk getting caught, to steal a book she doesn’t need.”

He’s breathing heavily, one hand on his hip. “And… and there’s something else that bugs me. The Darkhold told her how to design the portal that brought Coulson and me back. _God knows_ what else she read in that book… and yet, the _only_ real upgrade she creates for herself is to not feel pain anymore and disable her tracking? Why not use what she learned in the Darkhold to make herself unstoppable? Why keep her upgrades _simple_? And _if_ AIDA was driven by the Darkhold why did she still care about _not_ killing people? Nobody else we’ve seen under the influence of the book gave a _crap_ about other people’s lives!”

He shakes his head vehemently. “Something doesn’t feel right, Jemma. The Darkhold should _not_ have been able to rewrite AIDA’s programming and I’m not sure it did.” He gestures at AIDA’s head on the table. “I’ve examined that head all evening; tried to get into her system and… I’m pretty sure someone tampered with it; _not_ some mysterious, magical book, but just another flawed human that was corrupted by it.” He exhales slowly through his mouth and looks straight into her eyes. “I think Radcliffe’s up to something.”

“Radcliffe?” Jemma exclaims in disbelief.

“I think maybe he was behind all this.”

“What? _Why?_ ”  
  
“He read it, Jemma. I mean, he only _glimpsed_ at it, but what if that was enough? What if the book seduced him? Think about where he came from? Transhumanism? The desire to live forever? And think about his character!” Fitz bites his lip. “I mean, I tried to tell myself that he only worked for Hive out of fear, but … let’s face it… his ego is larger than life… He considered it a _challenge_ , something that could help him _advance_ , make him _famous_ , make him _immortal_ one way or another.” He lets out a frustrated grunt. “He caught a glimpse of the Darkhold and saw its potential, but he’s smart! He knew what the book had done to others, so he probably didn’t want to risk reading it without preparation. So he let AIDA read it, thinking he could later access the book via her memory, and when that didn’t work because Mace ordered AIDA’s hard drive erased, he went to Plan B: having her steal the book.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. I don’t know for sure of course but… something’s not right and my gut tells me that—”

His tongue darts out, and he pulls in his lower lip with his teeth. “He used me, Jemma. First time I met AIDA, she wandered out of Radcliffe’s lab, _stark_ naked. He _knew_ I was coming over, and he acted as if it was… as if it was an _accident_ that she waltzed in.”

He shakes his head. “But I thought about it and… the remote was right there.” He gestures to an imaginary table in Radcliffe’s apartment. “It was right there for him to grab and turn her off. And there was a robe for her hanging over the chair. I mean, in retrospect: What if that was all planned? What if he _wanted_ me to see her, because he _wanted_ my help with her? The speech AIDA gave me about becoming the shield, how she could have saved Trip and Lincoln and Doctor Garner? It’s like it was _tailored_ for me. I know Radcliffe said he wanted to show her to _you_ as well but… but he also knew how busy you’d been with your new position and you’d cancelled before and… I don’t know… I… it… He _manipulated_ me, Jemma, and he knew _exactly_ how to manipulate me. He knew how much pain our friends’ deaths had caused us. But maybe that whole speech was rubbish. Maybe _all_ he wanted was a _perfect_ android to advance his transhumanistic dream of eternal life. He was up to no good right from the start, and the Darkhold just made it worse… _so_ much worse because he thinks it’ll give him a shortcut to get what he’s always wanted and I—” Fitz points at himself with both hands, jabbing his fingers into his chest, and Jemma can feel his anger, his sadness. “— _I_ hid her from you. _I_ helped him perfect her. It’s _all_ on me.” He shrugs his shoulders as tears shoot to his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Fitz,” Jemma replies, welling up herself. She walks over to him, reaching for his cheek with her hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“I have to fix this, Jemma,” Fitz whispers. “We have to _stop_ him.”

“We will!” Jemma reassures him, bringing her second hand up to his face as well.

“We have to find _proof_.”

“We will!” Jemma says with conviction.

“Can you forgive me?” His eyes are sad and pleading when he says it.

A sad laugh escapes Jemma’s lips. “There’s _nothing_ to forgive, Fitz,” she says, shaking her head, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. “This isn’t your fault. He fooled _all_ of us!”

“I’m sorry, Jemma. I’m _so_ sorry,” he whimpers before his body begins shaking.

Jemma pulls him into a hug. She closes her eyes as his tears fall onto her shoulder, as his hands wrap around her waist with a sense of desperation.  
  
“We’ll fix this,” she whispers into his ear. “Together.”


End file.
